The True Archer
by Nikon Asturias
Summary: A unnamed Archer has been summoned instead of, the King of Heroes, Gilgamesh. The Fourth Grail War has a servant just like Emiya Kiritsugu. Tokiomi Tohsaka does not realize, yet, that he has summoned a man more powerful than the one he intended. This Archer does not only want to win but will do everything he can to make up for the mistakes of the past. And he is not alone. *Hiatus
1. Prologue

Pain surged through him. Grievous wounds riddled him and tore away his life. Each passing rhythm of his heartbeat was slower than the last. It was like knives were tearing through him from the inside. There was so much pain, too much. Even for a man like him. A life full of pain and death seemed to pale to this occurrence. Nothing would stop this end, nothing at all. A part of him even welcomed it.

He could no longer claim the lives of his enemies. If he had anymore left then it would be a problem. Fortunately, he can claim to no longer have any. The same went for friends.

All those he had once called ally lay around him. They were either whole or in pieces. Most would call the act horrendous. Some could claim that the work of Dante came to be. Nightmares were created through this work. No Circle in Hell could be this grotesque.

The docks were littered with arms and legs. Mangled corpses seeped the streams of blood eerily creeping towards the bay. It was a sight so horrid, mangled was not a proper word. Some carcasses lacked limbs and eyes but that paled to the others. One man had two noses, his face split down the middle. Another man no longer had skin covering his spine let alone the fabric from the Church. He was a poor, mostly foolish, excecutor but he was one of the many sent and the weakest of them. He still hesitated, showing his naivety, and was probably no more than a veteran of a year, possibly two but doubtful. It was a shame that neither he nor the others would be returning.

Then again, never send the sheep to kill a lion. Death is often the result. They knew to fear him when they were alone but they should have kept the same fear, even with twenty. No sheep could kill a lion.

He was considered the best the Church had. He was ruthless and he was calculating. Every life he claimed served a purpose and every life he spared another. Nothing was left to chance with him. Kiritsugu would be proud of him for such cunning. His son had become the Hero his father never could.

Sadly, he was most likely disgusted. He never wanted a life of a Magus for the boy. He refused him magic. He refused to show him the skill he needed until he finally granted the boy his wish.

"Damn," Shirou whispered. Thinking was becoming more difficult task.

The death around him was beginning to dampen his thoughts. A soft chuckle passed through bloody lips. Droplets spurted from a broken smile. What else could he do but laugh?

A dream brought this end to him. Not the dream a foolish boy devoted his existence to but the dream of a broken man. Not the dream Kiritsugu had wanted his whole life but this was Shirou's dream. This one he did not borrow.

He remembered being considered a fool for his first dream. He was chastised for the aspiration for many years since it was considered foolish by everyone he knew. At times he did as well but stayed true to that path. Even common senses' whispering and pleading could not bring him to abandon the notion. Not until years after he first aspired to be a hero did he finally abandon the hope. Ciel was proud when he did and gave him his crimson coat days later.

"Think of it as a present," the burial agent said. "A welcome present to the world of the sane." At least she treated him to dinner that night. She bought the ingredients and allowed him to cook for her family. Curry was the requested dish.

Shirou found the small things in the world meant the most. The coat was a rather comfortable accessory and he was grateful for it as much as he was for the opportunity to cook for a family again. Simple things always had a great deal of meaning.

Dreams were such things.

The new dream was far better than the first. That one he could fulfill and Shirou did just that. There was, however, a cost but there are prices worth paying.

_There are prices worth paying. _

Shirou could not bring himself to regret that decision. He was happy with it. The happiest he had been his entire life.

Being a hero was not even a second choice. It was such a foolish dream.

Emiya Shirou continued his ragged and final breaths. They were like swords in his lungs. They pierced him and maimed him. Death was such a beautiful thing to look forward to. He wanted it to claim him but he wanted it to leave him as well. There were still other things to focus on. Breathing was the most important. It was a true irony indeed.

More blood continued to flow from him. His skull had gashes and was, most likely, fractured. Shirou's iconic reinforcement, what made him a feared killer, had finally failed him. Then again, he was surprised he held himself against the twenty that came for him. Was it even twenty?

Shirou did not remember how many he faced.

_Was it twenty or was it thirty? How many did they send to kill me? How many did they send for them? _

Shirou decided his thoughts could be focused on better things. He owed himself that much. He felt that, as a Magus Killer, he deserved such a reprieve. He did serve the Church faithfully until he earned the dismissal. He preferred the word _retirement_ instead.

The blood was becoming more and more of a problem. One of them managed to get him on the head with a pistol. Shirou wondered how he could have forgotten to reinforce himself. The man was the third to last of them. He was so close to finishing them and gave himself away. A dagger then found a home in the gut of the nuisance. T.E. Lawrence did know a good blade from a bad one. The Jambia was excellent piece of craftsmanship.

The pistol was utter shit. American made might be good for something's but Shirou could not bring himself to trusting their pistols. Italian and German make always served him better.

_Shame about the pistol though, _Shirou looked down. The pistol, like the one Kiritsugu used years ago, was no useless and broken. Now in a dozen pieces it was useless.

_The old bastard, the damn old bastard, _Shirou cursed in his mind. Speaking was too painful. Even if he wanted to, he no longer had the strength.

The woman, the second to last of them to die, was very reluctant to do so. She kept fighting. A broken arm could barely slow down her punches. A blown off knee could barely cripple her. It took Shirou cutting off other leg with the Wallace Sword, the blade of the famous Scottish Rebel William Wallace. Then shoving a grenade in her mouth before pulling the pin and making chum out of her.

It was such a shame she had to die. She was very beautiful. She was tall, long legs and a body built for sin. A shame she lived the life she did. She could have been anything else and no one would have argued with her. The blue eyes helped her but the hair was beautiful itself. It was a rich plum.

_It's just like Sakura's but hers was better, much better. _Thinking of her brought nothing but pain to Shirou. So he let her fade from mind, just like the crimson left by the Servant of the Church faded into the ocean.

The more Shirou thought, the more the pain kissed him. It was like a terrible lover, always trying to make up for disappointment with kissing. A difficult endeavor he had only faced once. To her benefit, they were only in high school.

The final man he killed was also the one who brought his apparent heresy to their light. He confessed to his crime before the battle began. He said he wanted to see everything unfold. To see Hell spread across the Earth, for a moment if nothing else. It was why he watched the conflict unfold until they were the final ones left standing.

Despite being wounded, Shirou stood tall. His felt his skull was broken. His arms screamed in agony from the fighting and his legs were no better. He matched every man and woman he faced punch for punch. His faking did come in handy. It spared him from using his hands, not that he minded. Shirou was no novice to killing people with his hands. He hand done it before.

"Die," he shouted. He summoned forth Kanshou and Bakuya. The blades he found to suit him best. The same blades crafted by Gān Jiàng and his wife Mò Yé, the smith couple from China. They had crafted the finest of blade ever created. The Yin and Yang, the light and dark. They were beautiful and they were death.

The last man drew six blades as Shirou surged forward, like a Rider. They were the iconic Black Keys, the blades of the Church. They were the Black Keys, blades used to hunt demons and bring the enemies of the Church to their knees. Their steel purified the World through the cleanest of ways, through death.

The Priest stood tall as he watched his former pupil charge at him. They both knew neither of them would see the end of this. Death was the only outcome for them.

Shirou fought because he knew there was nothing else he could do. His enemy fought because there was nothing else he cared for other than death. It made them natural rivals.

The Priest threw a blade at Shirou. He swung Bakuya and the Black Key landed in the dying body of a Magus. He howled once more before death. Another Black Key flew towards him, Kanshou raced to meet it. This time the steel met cement.

Shirou continued to scream at the top of his lungs. His arms raised and moving down, he intended to slice the bastard in half. They clashed steel against steel. The Priest was well over fifty, and near sixty, but still had the reflexes of a man in his twenties. The only difference was that he was had none of the foolishness.

Their steel clashed in sync. They fought like the knights of old. The Samurai paled to them. The Centurions of Caesar would fall. Even the Myrmidons would bow to them.

Shirou hunched over as the Priest managed to find his stomach. The legendary blades faded. The battle was over.

"Like I told you boy," he whispered in his emotionless voice. The Priest had no soul, let alone conscious. This was the ideal man of the cloth. "Only monsters can become heroes." He towered over his former pupil. His steel was ready to kill once again. "Not foolish little boys. It seems I wasted my time teaching y-"

"I'm not a hero," Shirou whispered. A new blade formed in his hands. This was the blade used by the leader of the 47 Ronin, Ōishi Yoshio. This old Japanese steel seemed fit for situation at hand. Yoshio hated Kira as much as Shirou hated this Priest, yet the samurai did not hold the same respect for his enemy as he did. Now, it did not matter.

"I'm just a man," the katana twisted inside the Priest. "And I have been waiting to kill you for the longest of times." In a fluid motion, the man of cloth stumbled forward and the blade came crashing down, leaving only air where there was once a head.

Shirou remembered walking away, he remembered taking his last few steps before slouching next to the shipping container his back comfortably rested against. He could not bear to look at the carnage. He wanted something more pleasant too view. He earned it after all.

The plastic was a familiar feeling to his fingertips. An effort to preserve the worn pictures had failed miserably. Shirou had the habit of staring at them most of the day, when he was not around them. A husband and a father had that right, after all.

They were his new dream. They were the reason for why he was dying. No one would threaten them, not as if his protection was needed. His wife was fearsome by herself, even if no one but him knew it. Appearances did have tendency to underplay people, a lesson he had learned himself. An incredibly painful lesson he learned.

Somehow, Shirou did not think in mattered anymore. They were both safe now.

_Safe but gone_, his words were heavy but necessary. Those eyes of his were no better but he continued to gaze at their faces. _They are beautiful. _

His daughter had white hair like him. The Priest did warn him the experiments would alter more than just his appearance; his genetic code must have been one. Still, he preferred his new height, blue eyes and white hair compared to that red haired boy he once was. The power he gained was a nice bonus as well. Rational thinking was also a treat.

Shirou's thoughts began to fill with the images of his daughter, his sweet little girl. His struggle to keep his eyes open began to worsen. Heaviness was a simple way of stating they were cementing close. His stubbornness began to make itself known, he refused sleep and his thoughts wandered.

"Father," he remembered her saying. This memory was pleasant, and painful nonetheless. "I'm seven now, I'm too old for you to pick me up." What kind of little girl refused her Father's love?

"What's this Father business," he questioned her with a smirk. His gestures and expressions either made his wife blush or his daughter sigh. He loved them both the same, each of them was equally entertaining. "I was daddy yesterday when I tucked you in and I was daddy when you woke up this morning. Now, three hours later, I'm Father? Why are you in such a hurry to grow up?"

"I'm a woman now," she insisted. "I'm seven. You said it yourself. 'You're seven and your becoming a woman now.' So now I'm a woman, and women don't call their Father's daddy but Father. I'm not that little girl anymore." She crossed her arms and frowned. _Just like her mother_. "I'm a woman now."

His little angel was always so stubborn. "Well then," he knelt next to her and wrapped his arms around her. "You'll always be my little girl. No matter how grown up you and I say you are and didn't you just call me daddy right there?" Whether it was his wife or daughter, teasing caused them to blush and throw fits. Picking them up and twirling them in the air was one of his favorite ways of doing it.

"Put me down," her voice became demanding and her face red. She traded out the little girl for a mean one, tried at least. "I'm not little! I'm grown now! I'm a woman!" She tried to suppress her giggling but she loved it. She always did.

_Just like her mother, so stubborn and so headstrong._

"Of course, sweetheart," he remembered placing her back down on her feet and kissing her forehead.

"Stop it," then her little feet carried her back to the safety of her castle, as she called her room. "I'm leaving," now she was going to be reading. She said she wanted to get started on her new books, as courtesy of mom, dad, uncles and aunts. Never mind clothes or dolls, or whatever it is little girls wanted. She wanted books. Not just any kind of books.

His daughter wanted books filled with heroes.

She acted like she never read all those stories before. Every night he read her another story. Every night was filled with ancient battles, knights, heroes, monsters and dragons. She would want him to read to her later, being a woman did have a cost. A price, he knew, she did not want to pay.

"Hercules is my favorite," she told him before she grabbed his neck and nearly crushed the life from him before he made her, her birthday breakfast. "Achilles and Perseus are cool too…but I mean killing a Prince and a Gorgon are not cool compared to holding the heavens. Hercules is the best hero of them all. But Jason…he was cool. He had the Argonauts following him they got the golden blanket… EVEN HERCULES WAS AN ARGONAUT! SO JASON IS MY FAVORITE NOW! CAUSE HE HAD HERCULES FOLLOWING HIM!"

Shirou knew to let her have the fantasy. Hercules was not his favorite hero and Jason was nothing more than a pompous prick and did not deserve the title. Even if he did have the Argonauts behind him, and even if the Son of Zeus was one of them. Now she had her Greek Hero phase. Last time it was the Knights of Europe. Before, she obsessed with Samurai and then there was the Gladiator phase. She seemed to being a living collection of Heroes. She was going forwards and backwards, then left and right. There seemed to be no end to it in sight, she was probably reading the book he got her on Robin Hood.

Shirou felt the thief would be a nice change of things.

"She probably wants to be an Argonaut." He sighed and turned round. Arms enveloped him and grasped his waste tightly. A lightweight was on his shoulder and a familiar tickle graced his face. That long hair always tickled him.

"Let her have her fun," his wife whispered. "It's only a phase, I'm sure she'll let you read to her tonight." Shirou felt her smile on his shoulder. It was a nice feeling. "If not, then I'll take over. It's a mother's duty after all."

Sometimes she wound up teasing him. It was nice.

"What about the father's duty," he countered. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Please, husband," she untangled herself and Shirou lowered his head. She was barely whispering. He waited for her respond but shuttered. He did not expect her to place her lips next to his ear. "You must please me." She blew into his lob before letting go and walking away. It left him in a euphoric state of mind, at least until his daughter wailed.

_Another bad ending_, he sighed before resuming his fatherly duties.

He was going to miss this life. Shirou was going to miss his wife. She was strong. Hercules was nowhere near as strong. He knew she would be fine. Then with the little one to worry about, there was no danger at all. Their safety was something he did not need to worry about.

Shirou made sure all the right precautions were taken. All the right people were contacted.

_They will be safe now. They will be safe now. _

His daughter would hate him. That would be a safe assumption. More than one of her favorite heroes had a grudge against their parents. Somehow, he knew he would be no different but a price as such was worth paying.

_She is just like her mother. She is so very like her…she'll hate me forever because of this. _Shirou felt a smile creep upon his lips, chuckling followed. Maybe she would hate him but then maybe she would never forgive him. But then, she did not need to know such things. Thoughts and realities such as those have no place in a child's world but then again, he had no right either.

_This is easier for them…much easier. _Their hate, Shirou began to realize, was the price he had to pay. The price he had to pay for them. _A steep but necessary one, _he wanted to spit out the blood filling his mouth but could not find the strength_. _His mind continued to wander.One day he might be graced with their forgiveness but such a day may never come. Neither of them were the forgiving type.

The strength in Shirou's arm faded. It was begging him to let the picture go but he refused. The worthless thing crashed against the cement but the picture remained. The last ounce of strength he had was focused in those fingertips and keeping his eyes open. He refused the darkness awaiting him. It would have to work for its next claim.

Shirou's already blurred vision began to blur. The shadows of the night were beginning to blur into a bright white haze. He kept what focus he had on the photograph.

His wife and daughter were smiling at him. The little one had her arms around her stuffed bear. Her mother had her arms around her. Their bright eyes were staring at him. His daughter had her mother's eyes. Those two pairs of beautiful bright eyes were the most beautiful marvels he had ever seen.

"I love you, daddy."

"I love you, Shirou"

The breathing slowly faded. His vision brightened until he saw nothing. The pain had disappeared and Emiya Shirou had died his first true death. He died with his eyes open and a smile etched on his face. His heart was heavy with regret but a conscious clear.

Then came a voice.

The agreement had come to full circle. The Holy Grail now had a new Servant at its disposal.

**So this is the beginning to, **_**The True Archer. **_**It will follow him through the Fourth Holy Grail War. As you can imagine, it is a highly AU story. In it, I imagine Shirou in a more realistic light. He had received training from Kiritsugu and the Yakuza, in different areas before and after the Magus Killer's death. It makes him a bit more realistic, I believe, and not so much of a Mary Sue type. **

**Some chapters will be decently long, others will be shorter and more to the point.**

**If anyone is interested, I could use a Beta to help me edit.**

**Also, if anyone is interested, I have another story called the Unknown Prince. It is a based in the Song of Ice and Fire Universe and follows the Rhaegar and Lyanna theory of Jon Snow being their son. You can check it out on my page. I can use a beta for that as well.**

**The next chapter takes place during the summoning of the heroes. Should be up in a week or so. Thanks for reading, and have a great day. If you can, please leave a review. Again, thanks for reading.**

**Updated and Edited on 20 April 2014. **


	2. Beginnings

The day was average. A bright sun was midway through the sky, signaling it was the morning was half gone. A small breeze graced the trees and few and far between clouds filled the sky. Yes, it was an average day in Fuyuki. It did, however, not fall on such an average place. This day fell upon a Day of Summoning. Tokiomi Tohasaka knew such. He had been waiting for this day for so long.

Tokiomi Tohsaka was by no means an average man. His wealth alone could atone to this feat. A family with an abundance of prestige and an even greater amount of resources assured him a relaxed and dutiful life. Thus it was his duty to assure the Tohsaka Family continued to remain as such a position in the future as it was now. The Family Head had devoted his life to support such an endeavor.

Tokiomi had made his father proud with his devotion. He furthered his education in magic much further than his father predicted. He had become well known and well respected for both knowledge and power. Yet it was not enough. _A man could control the world_, Tokiomi once read, _but without a competent heir, such an accomplishment would be meaningless. _Another obstacle became eliminated instantaneously.

Zenjou Aoi had solved such a problem. He loved her, as much as any husband would. Any man with sanity, even those lacking such a gift could not help but love a woman like her. Aoi was kinder than a reverend mother, a devoted and dutiful wife but nevertheless, able to produce powerful heirs. Granted, her circuits are non-existent, she still gave him the most important thing in his life. Rin.

Rin was the light in his life. She was courteous, dedicated, persistent, ingenious but most importantly she was sharp. If her brain were a knife, then it would be the sharpest in the world. If her will mimicked a storm, then it would be the strongest of hurricanes. When the day comes for her, Rin would lead the Tohsaka family, long after he had departed the Earth, as he had towards greatness.

_Towards Akasha,_ Tokiomi added in his thoughts. He stepped away from the window, finished with watching the forest surrounding his home. There were same fond memories associated with that woodland. It happened to be the same place his daughter was conceived.

Those memories, like the window, were swiftly abandoned. It was rude of a host to forget his guests. Tokiomi had hoped Kirei did not wait long. He had felt his apprentice enter his home sometime ago but had not yet given him a proper welcome. He knew that it was only a part of the training he granted to Risei's son but hoped the young man knew so. Although he kept up appearances, Tokiomi did fear Kirei.

A man who hunted down Dead Apostles was by no means a man to take lightly. Executors were feared for a reason. Still, Kirei gave Tokiomi no reason to suspect him of anything. He had been devoted to his teachings and followed his every word. No teacher could ask for more (perhaps emotion).

"Kirei," Tokiomi greeted. He stepped out into view, watching his apprentice greet.

"Master," Kirei responded without emotion. "I apologize for my lateness." The former Executor took his lateness for his own.

_Good, he is learning. _"There is no need to apologize," Tokiomi responded. He placed a hand on Kirei's closest shoulder. "If anyone should apologize, it should be me. I am, after all, not only your master but your host as well. It should be me that apologizes." With that he led them through his home, back towards his study. "How is your father doing, I trust that all of his preparations are in order."

"Of course," Kirei responded. Although lacking all feeling, he did hold Risei in high regards. Whenever the Priest entered a room, all heads had turned towards him. He commanded both respect and fear. His friendly appearance allowed others to believe what was not there. "He has left nothing to chance. He'll be joining us this evening after mass."

Religion. It still played a part in the Grail War. Risei still had to keep his flock. He had to appear the same pious man. Tokiomi was amazed at the amount of people who attend his mass. The numbers never surprised him because it was less than twenty, below note. The few who went, sixteen, were very devoted. They always attend his ceremonies, his morning mass, his afternoon mass on the day of rest and his late one as well. Such devotion could be their doom. The danger brought by the Holy Grail War was fatal for all non-participants who found themselves in the middle. No one who witnessed the war ever survived to tell another soul. Servants were very thorough in keeping their existence from the world. Unless Risei had informed them of a disruption of his sermons, his flock would become nothing more than a pile of missing person flyers.

Tokiomi deemed it a small price for the knowledge of Akasha. Kirei and, without surprise, Risei agreed with him.

"How goes your preparations, I trust you to have completed everything necessary."

"Of course," Kirei replied. Daggers seemed to be flying through his lips. "Assassin has seen to it."

The founder of the Hashshashin, Hassan-i-Sabbah, was known for his preparations, as well as being the most frequently summoned member of the Assassin Class. During his life, and well after his death, disciples were well known for carrying out their orders without mercy or hesitation. Targets rarely escaped their knives. A trained member would often run out, in broad daylight, stab a target to death and would not flinch if they died afterward. They were the founders of the suicide attacker, more commonly known as the suicide bomber by modern standards. Their devotion was unrivaled. His especially, he studied for thirty-five years in isolation and was recorded leaving his room only twice. Hassan's devotion was only disrupted by his need to see the world from his rooftop.

"Very good, I have something I want to show you." Tokiomi opened his door and allowed his student admittance, allowing him entrance first. A host always showed proper courtesy.

"Is it the artifact that you will be using for the summoning later this evening," the Priest was never one for surprises. No one could possibly do so with him. Tokiomi wondered how he felt when his wife had taken her life.

"Of course," his smile was reassuring but Kirei merely nodded and stared. "It's right this way." He pointed inwards. His ring finger was aiming at a case on his desk, at an ebon case.

"Is that it," Kirei took initiative and strode towards the unopened case.

Tokiomi took great pride as he approached his greatest of treasures, the skin of the first snake. It was the relic of the King of Heroes, the first of his kind and the most powerful of them of all. He was two parts divine and a single part mortal. His will was strong that he defied the Goddess Ishtar and killed the Great Bull sent by the Gods to destroy his kingdom. He befriended the tool sent to bring his will to an end, making him his greatest ally until the same Gods who created Enkidu saw it fit to bring him to an end.

The King of Heroes, Gilgamesh King of Uruk, the most powerful of them all. The one who could bring the world destruction in moments, he needed to do nothing more than deem it unworthy of his presence.

Tokiomi knew it would take all of his patience and skill to keep the King of Heroes at his side. He did not wish to use a Command Seal, if he did not have to. The wrath he could inflict upon him would be unrivaled.

"Yes," the head of the Tohsaka Family evenly answered. "Look at it," he gestured while opening the case.

Kirei scoffed. He seemed unimpressed but he knew his place was not to judge. "Our victory is assured with this, is it not?"

The first snake did not seem impressive. Tokiomi was no fool. It was fossilized after thousands of years, fused with the rock. The skin was a faded yellow mixed with the brown rock.

"Why of course," Tokiomi gently closed the container. "Come, we should prepare for the summoning."

**Fuyuki Airport- Same Time**

Lord Archibald was not one for being late. Neither was he one for receiving what he was promised late. It took all the self-control and teaching of his family to not kill the entire family of the deliveryman who brought him his relic from Macedonia. He simply settled for killing him and his wife. The mercury made it appear he was a drunk driver. Kayneth neither felt shame for making two children orphans. He was above feeling that.

Alexander the Great was to be his servant, none other than the King of Conquerors. A man who single handedly brought Asia to its knees. He inspired loyalty from his men. Alexander humbled all those who followed him. He had given his seat by the fire to a blinded veteran during a blizzard, refusing to take his seat once the man regained his senses. "You are more Alexander than I," he said. A man who stood bare, as the day he was born, with scars gracing his body and asking his men, who threatened mutiny, if there was another who sacrificed more than he. They all begged him for forgiveness. That was to be his servant, a man who inspired and demanded loyalty from all those beneath him.

Kayneth respected that but he also demanded that loyalty. He knew Alexander would be difficult to control but he also knew that a Servant had no choice but to obey their Master as long as they bore the Command Spells. He may have been King in Macedonia but Alexander would be nothing more than a serf. Except now he was the enemy instead of a tool. Nothing angered Kayneth more.

That was until he had summoned Lancer. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, the first spear of Fianna. The Mythical Irish Hero who defied his Lord for Love and, although he was not condemned for his actions, he was doomed in the end. A boar gorged him because of a lack of detail and caring. Carelessness was something Kayneth would no longer tolerate. He had learned after losing the Great King.

With his first breath after summoning the wielder of the spear, he demanded loyalty.

"On my honor as a knight," he pledged. His words were true and he continued. "Your allies are now my allies and I shall guide my spear to protect them. Your enemies are now my enemies and I shall guide my spear through them. Your goals are now my goals and I shall see them through to the end. If needed, I will give you my life. This I swear to you. My Lance is now under our command, my lord."

Now, four days since the summoning, the fabled Irish hero walked beside Kayneth. Instead of wearing the leather armor he had donned when summoned, it left very little to the imagination. It clung to him tightly and would cause a nuisance that he simply saw as petty. Archibald ordered him to wear a suit he had set aside. Simple clothes as such were pointless to him. Lacking the comfort brought by his robes.

The suit worn by the Servant of the Lance was tailored made by one of the high-end European clothing lines. It was Fioravanti or some other tailor. Italian or English, Archibald did not care which it was. He never liked those clothes, though he did admit he was flattered. Sola did aim to please him.

The suit mentioned was stitched with dark blue fabric, like an ocean when the sun disappears. It was double breasted, a perfect fit for the knight. A set of diamond cufflinks were used to keep the Egyptian made shirt in order at the sleeves, said fabric was ivory colored. The shirt was buttoned all the way, save for the three top buttons that were loose. The shoes Lancer wore were the same ones he kept on his feet when he was summoned, he refused to remove them. He said, "If we were ambushed, I would need my footing in order to defend us. If I were to remove these boots, which I have used in all of my battles, I would be at a disadvantage." Kayneth allowed him to keep them on. He would rather have his servant at his side than without, even if his weapons were not in hand, his skills useful.

The last thing Kayneth had ordered Lancer to wear was rather simple. It made the Hero look at him with question.

"Before we depart," Kayneth had said when they had left his home in London. "I require you to wear these." He gave Diarmuid the simplest and most important piece of clothing he would need. Sunglasses. True they were simple, and had not enchantment on them whatsoever. If he had any other servant he would not need them but because he had Lancer. This specific Lancer, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, he would need them to cover his love spot. A gift and curse from a nightly affair with one of the many women he seduced.

No woman could resist the hero after gazing upon his small mole, unless they held a strong resistance to magic. Not taking anything to chance, Diarmuid was now wearing a pair of sunglasses that held the proper size and darkness to cover his spot. They covered the upper portion of his cheekbone perfectly. There would be no begging for his touch.

"Master," Diarmuid called, in perfect English. Although his tongue carried a slight accent of his Irish heritage, it was not Gallic. Kayneth was not familiar with the ancient tongue.

"Yes," Archibald replied. He hurried past several passerbies. "What is it?"

"Where exactly are we going," his question seemed pointless but at the same time it was rather necessary.

It seemed that, lost in thought, Kayneth had led his servant throughout the airport in a loop. They were right back at their terminal. He had no idea how.

"We've been walking in circles for sometime now. I did not wish to interrupt you; you seemed to be thinking rather deftly. I trust that you are planning our first move."

"Why, yes, of course," Kayneth replied with swiftness. "I was." He would never admit otherwise. "I believe we will make ourselves known within a few days time, the docks should be a good place." Although he had not been planning on battling just yet, Kayneth was considering where to declare the first battle. The docks were large and were well isolated from the city. At least there servants could battle once night had fallen without any worry of being discovered.

"Of course, my lord," Lancer continued to keep in step with his master.

Soon they both made their way out of the terminal and through customs. Within a half-hour the two were outside and making their way towards a woman.

Kayneth was not a man of emotions but he did love that woman. Sola-Ui Nuada-Re Sophia-Ri, his fiancé, stood in front of a black limousine. She was wearing the last thing he saw her in. A white blouse that clung to her with enthusiasm and a skirt as dark as the vehicle she was next to. It suited her very well.

"Kayneth," she said. Her voice was smooth like velvet. "You're late," but like sandpaper at other times. She was a stubborn woman.

"I blame the pilot," Archibald no longer paid her any mind as he made his way towards their transportation. "Lancer, meet Sola-Ui, my fiancée. I trust you to keep her safe as long as our 'contract' holds, correct?"

"Of course, my lord," Lancer half whispered.

"Good, Sola, this is Diarmuid. He will be staying with us during our stay here." They made their way into the limousine, Kayneth entered in first, followed by his fiancée and the servant closed the door as he did. "I trust you have taken care of all our lodgings." He resumed conversation as the driver began to depart.

"Of course," Sola replied as she eyed his servant. Something had peaked her interest. "I took care of everything before I arrived. I'm still surprised you sent me here a week ago. It wasn't necessary."

Lancer seemed to cringe at her words but Kayneth paid him no mind.

"Everything needed to be ready," Archibald, replied. "I am here to win this and nothing more." His words were meant to cut steel.

"If you were, you would have kept your first one." In the end, they did nothing more than waste breath. No more words were exchanged during the rest of the drive.

**Einzbern Castle-Germany. Nine Hours Later.**

"Kiritsugu," Illya whispered as she scurried through the halls of her grandfather's home. The Little Snow Fairy, as her father called her, was woken up to shouting. Normally, shouting would not wake her up. Grandfather did it very often and Illya was used to it. This time though, it was her father and he never shouted. She decided to go and see him. She thought maybe a game would calm him down.

Kiritsugu would always play games with her to calm her down. It was her favorite thing to do. She loved finding walnuts in the snow. She always won because she always played fair. He had to cheat to win. Daddy had no honor like her.

Even if Illya lost a game, it was still better than those nightmares. She always became a cup at the end and she had seven strange lumps but all of them talked. That nightmare was terrifying but mother cried harder than her when she explained them. Illya hated it when mother cried. It was always so sad.

After what felt like forever, Illya was standing in front of the chapel. She knew her parents were inside. She heard them talking about a ritual they had to do there. She wondered what it was. They were already married, what else could they possibly need a chapel for.

"No, there is no way this is possible," Kiritsugu was scary when he was mad. Illya froze as she heard his booming voice. That was not like him. His shouting earlier was not that angry. He sounded like a hero.

"Master, please stop, you're shouting." This was a strange voice. It sounded like a woman but it was different from her mother's and the maids. It sounded like father's voice and grandfather's voice. "I am the one you have summoned. I am your servant." She was also talking English. Illya had lessons in it. Mother made sure she learned all the basic languages. She spoke perfect Japanese and German. Her English was good enough to understand most of the conversation.

When she heard her father's voice again, he said some words she could not understand. "Fine then," she heard him walking. His footsteps were loud and fast.

"Oh no," Illya whimpered. She was standing right in front of the door. There was a quick breeze before she saw black eyes looking down at her. "Hi, Kiritsugu," there was no escaping her father now.

"Illya," he said. His voice was different. "What are you doing up so late? Did you have a bad dream? Are you cold?"

Illya felt warm all of a sudden. She was covered in her father's coat and wrapped in his big arms. She decided to snuggle a little. "No." She was earlier. She was in nothing but her pajamas. Of course she was cold. Sometimes her dad was an idiot.

"You shouldn't be up so late. You'll catch a cold, please tell daddy why you were up so late."

Illya wanted to tell him she was worried. She really did but she knew he would say she shouldn't worry and that he was fine. Kiritsugu always acted so strong. "I wanted to play in the snow with you and find walnut buds." Instead of her flat out lying to Kiritsugu, Illya chose to only half-lie to him.

The smile on his face was big. "It's too late for that Illya. You'd catch a cold if we did that. I promise you that we'll play tomorrow."

"Okay," Illya replied. She felt really sleepy all of a sudden. She yawned.

"I'll carry you to your room, just like when you were a baby." He left a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Daddy loves you."

Illya wanted to say "I know," she saw her mom talking to a woman in bright colors before falling asleep.

**Tokiomi Estate- Same Time**

Tokiomi controlled himself as he continued the chant. It was more difficult than he expected. The amount of energy he had to spend on it would be immense. He knew that. He just did not imagine that it would be this much. Tokiomi was barely keeping himself on his feet. The prana in his magic circuits was draining from him at a rate he could not fathom. The life seemed to be draining right from him. His legs shook as he held on to his arm with all his strength.

"Cast aside your shackles and come fourth Guardian Scales." Those were the final words of the ritual. The ones Tokiomi thought he would never say.

_For Akasha…this is for the knowledge of the heavens. _

Tokiomi felt the aroma of smoke fill his nostrils. It was more powerful than he thought. Once again, his expectations were surpassed.

"Master," Kirei sounded confused. "Is this the King of Heroes?"

The head of the Tohsaka family lifted his head, he felt himself dripping with sweat. His crimson suit was ruined, he knew that much already but the questioning of his servant. What was the meaning of that? He had summoned the most powerful of all servants. He had used the Skin of the First Snake.

Slowly and surely, Tokiomi lifted his head. To say he was surprised was a mild description. His eyes widened to a size he could not imagine. His shock was great.

Instead of a King, stood a simpleton. The man was tall. He had a few inches on Tokiomi and a couple more on Kirei. He was incredibly tall, at least six and a half foot. His hair was paler than snow and his ice colored eyes seemed to be piercing. He kept a straight forward demeanor on his face was like stone, he was calm and revealed nothing. He had the look of a true warrior, if nothing else. He wore a dark crimson, blood-like, overcoat that went down to his ankles. Underneath that he had on a black shirt and a pair of trousers of the same color. They seemed to be normal but they were anything but. Something about them seemed strange. The white crosses pinned on his two shoulders revealed him to be a member of the Church but that did not make sense. None of what was happening made sense.

"As the Servant Archer of this War, I have answered your summons." The Servant of the Bow announced. His Japanese was perfect, yet his accent was hinted with variety of different ones that were unknown to Tokiomi. Even with this surprise, the Tohsaka Head felt he could still win with this man, if he was of the Knight Class, as he claimed, his honor would bound him to becoming a dutiful Servant. "Now, I ask of you, are you my, master?"

"Yes," Tokiomi said. There was no hesitation in his voice. "I have summoned you."

There was a pregnant pause. The room suddenly felt colder, the smoke seemed to have cooled off.

"Without intention I take it," the servant coolly said. He walked towards them. He heard Kirei.

Tokiomi could hear Risei take a step backwards. The cross around his neck rattled when he did. It seemed the stoic priest did have fear left in him.

"Why would you think that," the proud mage responded.

"Because I don't have a love for snakes," the Spirit bent over and began to run his hand across the fossilized skin. "I hate them to be honest, they're too slimy and poisonous." He took a breath, "Who was it that you intended to summon. William Wallace? No, he lived in Scotland. King Ramses of Egypt? No, it would have something to do with dogs. Xerxes? That would be gold; his kingdom was full of it? Or Hannibal? No, Cleopatra! She killed herself with, wait that's not the breed that killed her." Before he could continue to name off more names from history Tokiomi spoke up.

"I tried to summon Gilgamesh, the King of Heroes." He saw no sense in lying. There was nothing he could do. Formidable or not, his skill in magic could not compare to the skill of a Heroic Spirit. "Since you seemed to be well rehearsed in history, I can assume you can understand my surprise."

The answer surprised him.

"Why of course, I do. While, I regret that I am not your intended. I don't regret this summoning. Now allow me to seal our contract."

Pain surged through Tokiomi but he allowed himself to push through it. He forced down a wince. Thousand of needles seemed to have found his nervous system at that moment. He still felt like he was being crushed under a massive boulder. This much prana should not be needed for a single servant. This weakness should not accompany a single man.

Then came a moment that could have ended Tokiomi. "Why, if I may, would you so easily bound yourself to me."

The Servant scoffed, a smirk was etched across his face. "Because we both want to win," he replied. "And nothing shall stand between us and victory. Of that, I promise you." His gaze lingered on Kirei for a moment before snapping back to Tokiomi. He must have sensed him being another master but made no comment on it. He must have deduced that they were allied for the War. His servant was smart, despite appearances. "We can discuss the rest of our arrangement over tea. I promise you this Master, there is no one in the world who can rival one of my cups." Those words caused all of the men to jump. Since when do servants make tea?

**1\. Thanks for reading Chapter one of True Archer. It took longer than expected but at least it's done now. I have the outlines for the next three chapters done so be prepared. **

**2\. I need a Beta so…do I have any volunteers?**

**3\. Also check out my other story the Unknown Prince.**

**4\. Can you please review and leave me your thoughts. I like to know what you think of this chapter. I've been trying to perfect it.**

**5\. Also, things in my life have been resolved and I am walking on my former broken ankle again. Yay. **


	3. UnfortunateHopeful News

Good Evening, This is not the update you want to hear but this is the update I will give you.

My health is not the best at the moment. I have been taking measures to turn it around. It has been steadily improving these last two months but is still going to take me months before I'm well again. I am still writing but nothing is presentable as of now.

Also, my personal life and education comes before writing. If you do not like it, then you don't need to read this.

I am writing the best stories for you to read. I am taking steps and measures to ensure they are quality.

If you have any problems, message me.

No story is dead. All of my stories are alive and are being outlined and chapters being re-written.

The order of updates, which will all occur on one day by the end of 2015:

Foolish Royale-FSN/Sekirei-6 Chapters

Protector's Wish-Bleach/FSN-5 Chapters

Unknown Prince-A Song of Ice and Fire-4 Chapters

True Archer-FSN/F0-5 Chapters

Awakening-Bleach-2 Chapters

The Unsuspecting Hero-Star Wars/Justice League-10 Chapters

Fools and Heroes-Dragon Age/Sekirei-5 Chapters

Like I said before, my life comes first before the writing. It will happen, just be patient. Quality is more important to me, so be patient.


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